


Dancing on My Own

by spacewritermonkey



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: F/F, Warrior Nun AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27227614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacewritermonkey/pseuds/spacewritermonkey
Summary: Ava won't lie. She's on the prowl tonight. The week had been shitty with her team breathing down her neck for one thing or another. Anyway, a little stress reliever never hurt anyone, especially if both parties remember to stick to consensual manners.
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 14
Kudos: 225





	Dancing on My Own

**Author's Note:**

> Fear not fellow readers-who-hate-authors-who-never-finish-their-WIPs-and-then-never-heard-from-again: THIS is a one shot.

The OCS is a popular hangout for all the local gays—even tourists who happen to be passing by. It’s a place well-known to those who are just looking for some safe space to unwind at, be themselves, and generally just have a good time: without necessarily breaking the bank. Originally designed to be a would-be fine dining of sort, OCS was previously named Orchids of Cattleya and Sedirea, thanks to the former owner being a sentimental man whose children had an affinity for orchids.

When the original plans fell through courtesy of said former owner passing away in an accident, a mysterious buyer swooped in immediately to buy the property. Priced at a bargain and the sole condition of keeping the name as is, the would-have-been three-star restaurant became a wildly popular and successful gay bar in just a little over two months. Owned and managed by a woman rumored to be a former nun, OCS was also renowned for having strict rules. Troublemakers were given two chances and third meant being banned.

Though likely to be lumped with troublemakers upon first impression, Ava Silva has been a patron of the bar from the first time OCS opened its doors to the public up until present.

* * *

It's a little early for a crowded night tonight.

Whenever she comes out to this place, the earliest crowd starts trickling in a little bit before 10. But tonight, it’s barely past 9 and the place is teeming with people.

Ava won't lie. She's on the prowl tonight. The week had been shitty with her team breathing down her neck for one thing or another. Anyway, a little stress reliever never hurt anyone, especially if both parties remember to stick to consensual manners.

So here she is, whiskey in one hand and the other cradling her chin as she peruses the people around her. Lots of candidates tonight, if she's honest. A few had caught her eye and some had even shot her a wink or two. Sadly, Ava's gaze simply found itself glossing right over them.

If Mary was around, she'd probably give her shit for taking so long _. Just because she has her own girlfriend to go home to...smug ass_.

Honestly, Ava has grown a little tired. Or maybe that's the "itch" talking after having been unattended for so long. Ugh. But maybe Camila was right. Until when does she plan on doing this? Sure, there's an undeniable sense of freedom involved, and she's liked being able to come and go and do whatever shit she wanted in peace... But at what cost? Not that she’s looking to settle down like some people she knows—ugh. No. It’s just that perhaps there is merit in knowing the face you sleep next to at night and wake up next to in the morning.

Bothered more than she would care to admit about letting her friends’ lengthy lectures about her dating habits get to her, Ava's about to give up and give that redhead near the VIP section another look-see, but something else in her periphery catches her eye.

One look.

 _She's new_ , is the first thing that pops into her head.

Ava's such a frequent customer—not to mention with a thing for faces—that she definitely knows the regulars. She's also familiar with the weekend warriors who can only show their faces every so few.

A face like hers? Who could forget?

Ava takes her time observing the new lady from afar. She’s seated on one end of the bar, staring at her drink, and taking a sip every now and then. Ava’s fascination grows when she spies mystery lady’s fingers—which were previously drumming to the beat of the pumping music—suddenly pause when a new song came on. As if she knew the music by heart, said woman’s fingers suddenly started moving in place—lightly and barely skimming the top of the bar as she seemed to play the keys of the song blaring loudly throughout the entire club. And as she “played,” a fairly serene smile flits through her lips, rather lost in her own world that comprised of just her and the music.

Ava’s never known the “need” to know or meet someone until that moment.

For a beat, Ava wonders if she has a chance. In the last minute alone, two ladies have already approached and turned away by a shy smile and subtle shake of a head.

But hey. Ava’s lived long enough on hope. What’s one more night?

And if she happens to go back to her place with said woman? BONUS.

It takes some expert finagling, trying to get through the bunch of sweaty people, particularly the more stubborn ones waiting for their turn at the bar.

Finally, Ava spies a smidge of open space and bursts through the crowd right as a seat opens beside mystery lady.

 _If this shit isn’t kismet, I will fucking kiss Lilith when I see that woman tomorrow. No way this isn’t fate speaking out loud_.

A quick glance sideways showed that Ava’s proximity didn’t even seem to register on the other woman. But of course, Ava doesn’t let that detail deter her.

It takes some rather loud clearing of her throat before the woman seems to lightly startle enough to bring her eyes around to meet hers.

“Hi!” Ava greets with her usual enthusiasm.

 _You mean your enthusiasm when you’re looking for some new victim to drag into your lair?_ Ava won’t deny her internal voice for self-flagellation often sounded a lot like Lilith. Mary likes to refer to that voice as Ava’s remaining sense of self-preservation. Camila just calls it Ava’s conscience.

“Hello.”

 _Well fuck me if that accent isn’t sexy_ , Ava thinks.

“I’m Ava.”

She waits for this stranger to take her hand. Though sensing hesitancy, when the other woman finally took the proffered hand, Ava could not help but marvel at the gentle touch followed by a firm grip. Ava would never have thought she’d get turned on from a single handshake—but hey! You learn new things every day, yeah?

“I’m…my name’s Beatrice.”

_Score! A name._

“Hi, Beatrice.”

Upon closer inspection, Ava finally realizes something different about her new friend. Beatrice’s “mood” wasn’t just that of someone new to this club.

She was _new_.

“First time at a gay bar?”

Ava doesn't mean to pry. She never does. Alas, a lot of her attempts and faux pas tends to start off well-meaning, but inevitably just...crashes and burns.

Despite the sheepish expression on her face, Beatrice seems able to muster a grin and shoots back with "Does it look obvious?"

Relaxing a bit at the realization that at least it seems she hasn't totally blown off her chance, Ava responds with "Yeah."

 _What an idiot. You couldn't even fucking pretend and leave them with a little dignity, could you_?

Beatrice shifts her eyes to look at her surroundings before releasing what seems to be a sigh of resignation and shoots her a self-deprecating smirk. "I just told my parents."

Ava's surprise couldn't have been more obvious. "Oh."

"Yes. Well. I wish that was all they had to say." Beatrice takes one last swig of her drink before motioning to the bartender for another which she mimics. Ava barely remembers she’s holding an unfinished glass and saves face by asking for a bottle of beer.

"I'm so sorry to hear that,” it’s all Ava can think of to offer.

Uncertain of what else to say for a change, Ava takes a rather large gulp of her newly delivered drink and immediately follows with a swish of her whiskey. She doesn’t even really like beer for crying out loud.

Ava hasn't exactly had any family to worry about ever coming out to. In that way, she considers herself lucky. But in the back of her head, sometimes Ava wonders what it'd be like to have people who seem to care about any of the decisions she makes in life.

"It is what it is. I suppose I’m just not entirely looking forward to Monday."

"Why? What's happening on Monday?" Ava's curiosity, sadly, knows no end. Unlike her filter, which comes in little square packets like those teeny-assed wipes you get from public toilets, so small and useless.

"Let's just say we work in the same office."

"Oh."

"Yes. We've established that." Beatrice's grin this time seems more like teasing, and Ava can't help but feel relieved that at least things seem to be returning to familiar ground. Teasing and banter, she can do. Heartfelt confessions?

Well. There's a reason she's been single for some time now, as Camila likes to helpfully point out.

Before Ava could even attempt to shoot her opening serve, Beatrice asks her a question. "Was it really obvious that I'm a novice at this?"

"Novice? I was just thinking that my initial impression of you was that either you're new to this bar or you're totally new to a gay bar. The third option seemed highly unlikely."

A confused tilt of the head accompanies her question of "What could've been the third option?"

"Like maybe you've never been to a bar. At all. What are the chances of that unless you're what—a nun?"

Beatrice's laugh, though not loud, seems to capture every sense Ava has. It's so tangible she wonders if she can touch it and carry it with her She doesn't laugh with abandon, unlike Ava, but throwing her head back a bit and with her eyes closed, Ava's mesmerized to say the least.

"Funny you should say that..." Beatrice starts after getting her amusement under control.

"No. No way!" Ava's incredulous tone seems to prompt another laugh, though a bit softer, from this stranger she only knows by name.

"You're right. The third option would have been preposterous." Beatrice's smirk leaves Ava gob smacked.

"You...you jerk!" Despite her words, Ava's resounding laughter assures the other woman that her teasing was received with good humor, as intended.

"It is indeed my first foray into a gay bar. I've...tried a few times before, but never really had anyone to ask to accompany me and...if I went alone, I felt a bit terrified my parents would find out as soon as anyone recognized me."

"Recognized you?" Ava's confused look seems to take Beatrice aback.

Beatrice's face displays dawning realization before changing back into her polite persona, which Ava figures is her default expression. Hardly any emotion, but with a ready and practiced smile on hand in case needed.

"It's nothing."

Despite the loud music and the throng of bodies pressing into them every now and then, there's a lull of silence that Ava knows is bound to bring them to “Awkwardville: population 2.”

"Do you come here often?" Beatrice asks.

Ava grins.

"What?"

"That's such a cliche pickup line. Surely you know that at least."

Beatrice shrugs. "I didn't."

"Holy shit, you sure you're not some former nun?"

Beatrice scoffs. "I wish. Perhaps I might have had more chance of finding peace in such an archaic institution if I happened to be one."

"Aww, but then how would we have ever met?" Ava's smile is teasing and a bit sultry, that much seems to register with Beatrice whose reaction is to blush a wonderful shade of red. A deeper shade of red particularly, once Ava managed to close the gap between their hands atop the bar in order to brush her fingers against Beatrice’s.

"Are you usually this forward?"

Ava shrugs, "Lying and prevaricating is time consuming."

"Are you in a particular hurry tonight?" Though her words made Ava wonder if she was being called out for her style, the slightly embarrassed expression on Beatrice's face tells the somewhat shorter woman that the question was done in all honest curiosity.

Tamping down a sigh, Ava smiles and shakes her head. "I've got time."

And that is how in the middle of a Friday night, right around the time Ava would usually be found in the arms of another, or sometimes with her arms around another...

...instead she found herself caught up in a conversation with this mystery woman named Beatrice whom she barely knows other than she’s NOT a former nun, she has a lovely accent, fresh from the closet, and apparently able to hold her liquor well judging by the number of glasses she’s consumed since Ava sat beside her.

Except as hours passed, more drinks slowly accumulated and consumed, Ava learned how Beatrice went to boarding school at a very young age. Ava found out that Beatrice knew six languages, though she professed to only be fluent enough in four as the other two were barely enough to at least prevent herself from being kidnapped. (Ava thinks she wants to learn more about the story behind that one.) She even discovered by accident that Beatrice certainly comes from an affluent background with possibly well-known parents based on a few incidents with journalists that the other woman had let slip.

She learned about how Beatrice would much rather listen to music rather than play. Beatrice also shared about her love of books and even a few anime manga series she'd followed throughout the years. Ava had finally found something in common with the woman and suddenly found themselves tipsy and engaged in a lively debate about anime medium as porn material. If more than one or two patrons around them happened to eavesdrop, both never noticed.

But soon enough, Ava's glance at her watch showed the witching hour approaching.

She'd noticed the crowd around them dwindling.

At a lull in conversation brought on by Beatrice asking for two glasses of water, Ava realized it was now or never.

"You want to get out of here?"

Beatrice's hand freezes mid-reach for her glass.

The tinge of panic in her eyes as she shifted her gaze between her drink and Ava told the other woman everything.

Ava’s smile is honest when she says "Hey! It's okay. I'm sorry. I should've taken a clue and...understood...this is still all relatively new to you..." Ava trails off, unsure of what else to say. She had expectations—sure, but none of them included ever coercing another—not even the slightest hint of "encouragement" if the other party was anything less than one immediate "yes."

"I'm sorry." The embarrassment would and could not do, Ava thought.

"No! Please. Please, don't apologize. You just broke the news to your parents and from what you said there's more to look forward to on Monday... I get it." Ava held up her hands in front of her as if trying to assure and placate the other woman.

"Thank you." Beatrice's smile is a bit wan, but the relief in her eyes palpable. Ava doesn't want to consider what or who caused this woman to be so guarded.

"Um, here. In case you just want to talk more or maybe hang out?"

Ava never gives out her number. Especially not after the huge incident of 2017. If she remembers correctly, it’s one of the things that had put Ava off of leather-wearing women for some time. That shit show made her friends laugh at first, until the inconvenience caught them in its growing web as well.

Anyway, here she is. Hand outstretched to tuck the piece of napkin into the little breast pocket she noticed Beatrice had on her button-down shirt. On said napkin was Ava's number hastily scrawled on it.

Beatrice blushes once more, but doesn’t make a move to take the napkin out.

_Another point, Silva._

"Thank you."

That was all she said before a flurry of quick goodbyes and Ava was left all alone. Again.

She looks around the club and knows she's missed her chance. Although, dwelling about it right now doesn't seem to bother her as it usually does. Even the sight of the redhead trying to catch her attention doesn't faze her one bit.

Perhaps this is what the rest of her friends keep trying to tell her about.

Is it worth it? Yes. It feels like it.

Besides, she can go home and easily take care of her personal problem all by herself. Thank God she has two hands.

Would having someone with her be better? Yes. Surprisingly, however, Ava finds the idea of anyone BUT Beatrice suddenly not quite as…tasteful.

_Look out world, Ava might just be growing up._

As Ava walks out of the bar and into what's left of the night, she can't help but wonder if meeting up at a bookstore might be more of Beatrice's scene. Or would she prefer coffee? Although given the accent, maybe she fits the stereotype and prefer tea.

Oh, well. She could just ask Beatrice when she calls.

_Except she never does._

* * *

One week later and Ava’s trying to turn down a pretty aggressive and slightly drunk brunette when a hand lands gently against the small of her back. Whipping her head around to glare at the intruder of her personal space, Ava finds herself mollified by the sight of Beatrice with a grin and a proffered drink.

“Miss me?”

_Fin._


End file.
